


tongue-tied and starry-eyed

by nowrunalong



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Comics)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-05 19:31:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 10,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11020065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowrunalong/pseuds/nowrunalong
Summary: A collection of short fics, written for Buffyverse Femslash Week.Pairings in chapter index!





	1. buffy/willow: forever 17

The first thing Buffy notices is that Willow doesn’t pick very much up. She hums and haws and flips through racks, but for the most part she just follows Buffy around, carrying the singular shirt she’d picked up when they’d first walked into the store.

“We’re here to shop, Will,” Buffy points out, her arms loaded up with stuff. “We are. That means me… _and_ you.”

“I know,” Willow says. “I just…”

“What?”

“My mom usually shops for me,” Willow mumbles. Her voice strengthening a little, she adds defensively: “And it’s not like I’ve ever had a… a _gal_ pal to go shopping with before. My best friends growing up were Xander and Jesse, and they didn’t exactly love the mall-going.”

True. Buffy hadn’t considered this.

“What about Amy? Didn’t you guys used to hang?”

“She didn’t like shopping very much. She was kinda determined not to like anything that Cordelia liked.”

Buffy smirks. “Okay. You’re coming with me.”

“What? Where?” She notices the direction Buffy is moving and stops. “I-I don’t even have stuff to try on yet.”

Buffy takes Willow’s arm and gives it a little tug. “Doesn’t matter. I do.”

“Um. Not following,” Willow says, as she allows herself to be led in the direction of the fitting rooms.

“You’re gonna try on whatever I hand you. Okay?”

“I don’t know,” Willow says.

“It’ll be fun,” Buffy wheedles. She hands half of her pile to Willow, who accepts it without thinking.

They approach the fitting room attendant—a sleepy-looking woman, who writes “10” on the little whiteboard on the outside of one door, and “10” on another without bothering to count their items.

“There you go,” she tells them.

“Thanks,” Buffy says.

Willow gives her a helpless look. “I can’t wear these.”

“You don’t have to _buy_ them,” Buffy says. “You just have to try them on. Please? For me?” She gives Willow her most charming smile, and gestures toward one of the open doors. “Yours.”

“What if I look awful? Do I have to come out?”

“You _won’t_ look awful,” Buffy says. “And yes.”

Once Willow finally relents and disappears into the fitting room with an expression more indicative of the end of the world, Buffy takes the second room. She’d mostly picked up dresses and tops this go-around. She swaps the dress she’d arrived in for a simple blue one. It comes with a belt; Buffy ties it around her waist with a bow at the back, and exits the fitting room.

Willow emerges at the same time. She’s wearing her own skirt, and the one shirt she’d picked up herself. It’s pink, with little blue forget-me-nots.

“Cute,” Buffy says. “It is. But you can do a lot better.”

“I like the dress,” Willow says.

The dress is okay. Buffy likes the colour, but the cut could be more flattering. “I can do better, too. Round two—go.”

Buffy’s second dress is pink, with a low-cut V-neck. The material is a little too shimmery to be casual, but she can dress it down with boots and a scarf. It looks great with her hair. She gives an experimental twirl, and grins at the way the the skirt of the dress swishes around her legs.

“Will?” she says, tapping on Willow’s door. “You okay?”

“I don’t think I can come out.”

“You can,” Buffy says.

On the other side of the door, Willow takes an audible breath, and then Buffy hears the click of the lock sliding open. “Promise me you won’t laugh,” Willow says.

“I _promise_.”

Willow pulls the door open.

“Oh my God,” Buffy says immediately.

“I told you!” Willow grimaces, making to push the door closed again.

Buffy reaches a hand out, lightning-fast, and stops the door.

“Will,” she says. “You look _amazing_.”

She’s in the sheer black halter top dress Buffy had picked up on a whim, thinking she might wear it to a party, or maybe to the Bronze.

Has she ever seen Willow wear black before? It makes her red hair looks redder. It makes her skin look brighter. She's stunning.

“And you!” Willow says. “It’s so—you! You _have_ to get it.”

“I haven’t looked at the price tag yet,” Buffy admits. “Kinda scared to.”

“Round three?” Willow asks.

“Wait. Not yet. I wanna bask.”

Willow frowns. “Bask in what?”

“The hotness of _you_ , silly. You’ll have Xander drooling on the dance floor.”

“I-I’m not sure about that.”

“Trust me,” Buffy says emphatically. “You’re a dish. No one’ll be able to take their eyes off you.”

“Are you sure that’s not ‘cause I look… kinda silly?” Willow asks nervously. “And—and I don’t really _want_ everyone to look at me, anyway.”

Buffy takes Willow’s hand—it’s warm, and a little clammy. She _is_ nervous. “Look. You don’t have to buy it if you’re not gonna feel comfy. But I mean it, Will. You look amazing.”

Willow’s face goes pink, and Buffy touches her cheek. “Hey. Would I lie to you?”

“N-No,” Willow stammers.

“Then why’re you all embarrassed?”

“Hello,” Willow says. “Not really used to all the compliments.”

Buffy grins, dropping her hand to her hip. “Get used to ‘em. Round three?”

“Round three,” Willow agrees. “And—Buffy?” Willow adds through the wall, once Buffy is back in her own fitting room.

“Hmm?”

“You really _should_ get that dress.”

(Buffy does.)


	2. willow/kendra: for, against

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> willow and kendra discuss angel’s cure, and buffy. set at some ambiguous point during becoming part one.

“You must care a lot for your friend, to do this spell for her,” Kendra says, flipping her book shut. “I had a look at it. It is very complicated.”

“I do,” Willow says, taken by surprise. “I want to help.”

“Most people would give up. The cure was lost. No one would expect you to find it. And even once you did, no one would expect you to cast it, given your level of expertise.”

“Hey,” Willow says. “My level of expertise is… expert enough. Okay, so, I expect that a spell of this magnitude will, you know, maybe have more side effects than I’m used to, but I can deal with that! A-And anyway, I didn’t find the cure. Ms…” Willow stops, biting back the name before it can bring her to tears, like it had so many times before. “Someone else did.”

“That person is very remarkable, then,” Kendra says.

“She was.”

“I am sorry,” Kendra says, understanding. “Your friend. Was it Angel who killed her?”

Willow nods, and Kendra grants her a smile tinged with something like fondness.

“Then I was right. You really do care for Buffy. You would have to, to put aside what Angel did and help him.”

“It’s not for Angel,” Willow admits.

“I know.”

“And you,” Willow says. “You didn’t just come back here because your Watcher told you to, did you? I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, ‘cause I don’t know you very well, but… earlier. You looked kinda worried about her. Buffy. You… You care about her, too.”

Kendra smiles. “When we first met, I thought we were very different. But I was mistaken. Buffy… she cares deeply about people. She is very loyal. I think it is because of her that I…” Kendra pauses, thinking. “That I have come to realize that I am very similar.”

“She kinda brings that out in people,” Willow agrees. “The loyalty, and… and the caring.”

“I am not accustomed to it,” Kendra says. “But I think… that it not a bad thing, even if it is a weakness.”

“How is caring a weakness?” Willow asks, frowning.

“It means that you have something to lose,” Kendra says simply.

“I guess. I-I mean, you’re right, but… can’t it be a strength, too?”

Kendra smiles again. “It is a very great strength, I think. It also means that you have something to fight for.”


	3. buffy/tara: swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> post-Dead Things, tara attempts to comfort buffy with a tarot reading.

“I could read for you,” Tara says, once Buffy has calmed down enough to sit beside her on the couch. “T-Tarot cards, I mean. Um, I’m not very good, but I find it calms me when I’m... when I’m going through something.”

Buffy nods and pushes stray hairs from her eyes. They’d stuck there while her tears had dried up. She can’t speak yet, but the nod is enough.

Tara fetches her cards from her bag and passes them to Buffy.

“Will you shuffle them?”

Another nod. Buffy takes the cards and, after wiping smudged mascara from her fingers onto her pants, begins to shuffle them.

“I’m not very good at this,” she says quietly.

“It’s okay, Buffy. There is no good or bad.”

Buffy hands the cards back, and Tara accepts them, holding them gently for a moment between her the palms of her hands, as if wishing for good things, and then placing three cards down on the coffee table.

“I never learned what these meant,” Buffy admits. “Will... um. Willow tried to show me, once.”

“Don’t worry,” Tara says. She smiles kindly. “It’s not about the memorization. It’s about understanding pictures. I’ll show you.”

Tara taps the first card with an index finger.

“This is your past. This is what has brought you to where you are now.” She taps the second card. “And the last card is where you’re headed.”

“They’re all swords,” Buffy says. “Does that mean something?”

“Swords relate to emotions,” Tara explains.

“I guess I have a lot of those.”

“You’re in a turbulent part of your life, Buffy. It’s understandable.”

Buffy picks up the first card.

“Looks painful.”

It’s the three of swords: three blades, stabbed through a bleeding heart.

“Heartbreak,” Tara says.

“Haven’t really dealt with that in a while.”

Tara shakes her head. “It doesn’t necessarily mean a breakup. It means that something has shattered your heart. The resurrection spell. You... You had to deal with a lot of pain, and hurt.”

Tara picks up the second card and shows it to Buffy.

“The six of swords.”

A journeyer pushes a small raft forward through the ocean.

“It... It’s about making a journey towards... something different. It’s a...” Tara searches for the word. “Transition? And it’s not always a nice one, or... or an easy one. But necessary.”

Buffy contemplates the card.

“I think my boat has sprung a leak,” she says, pointing to the little figure. “I think it’s going under. Tara, I think I’ve fallen overboard.” She sounds panicked again. “What if I forget how to swim?”

“Sweetie,” Tara says, setting the six of swords down and taking Buffy’s hands in hers. “You haven’t fallen overboard. And you won’t forget how to swim.”

“How do you know?” Buffy asks desperately.

“I’m a witch,” Tara says. She attempts a little smile. “I know things.”

Buffy lets out a tiny, choked laugh, and Tara smiles more confidently.

“The last card is the page of swords. He means the start of a journey.”

“Maybe I’m going to die—again.”

“Buffy, no! N-No, that’s not... It’s _good_. For one journey to start, another journey has to end. Your journey—the one you’re on now... that’s the one that is lonely, and... and hard. And the next one, it... it might be hard, too, but I think it’ll be better, ‘cause it’s starting from a better place.” She indicates the card again—the cheery colours and striking pose of the figure don’t look anything like how Buffy feels. “It’s stating from a place of optimism, and h-hope.”

“I’ve kinda forgotten what those are.”

“But you’ll remember. It’s where you’re headed.”

“Tara,” Buffy says helplessly. “I hate being alone.”

“I know, sweetie,” Tara says. “But you’re not.”

She wraps Buffy in her arms and holds her as she starts to cry again.


	4. buffy/willow, tara/faith: coasting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> buffy and willow double date with tara and faith at an amusement park.

“I’ll go on,” Tara announces, “but I’m not opening my eyes. Not even once.”

“Think about the picture, babe,” Faith says, squeezing her hand. “Halfway down that mountain and—snap! The rest of us are havin’ the time of our lives, and you’re there lookin’ all squinty.”

“We never buy the picture anyway,” Tara points out.

“A-And I don’t know about ‘the rest of us having the time of our lives’ either,” Willow says. She looks to Buffy. “Do I have to go on?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s so high!”

“Will, hundreds of people go on this ride every day, and nothing ever happens to them. It’s perfectly safe.”

“Some of ‘em might choke up their funnel cake afterward,” Faith says helpfully.

Willow looks worried.

“You’ll be fine, Will. You have a stomach of steel.”

“I mean, I do better than Xander,” Willow agrees. “He can’t even go on the boat ride that _doesn’t_ spin all the way around.”

“Yeah,” Faith says. “That’s why Xander wasn’t invited.”

“There was also the whole ‘this is a double date’ thing,” Tara adds.

“That too.”

They’re halfway through the line now, inching closer as people are ushered onto the roller coaster and the group behind them rushes forward.

“I kinda have a bad feeling about this. Baby?” Tara turns and takes Faith’s other hand, too, so that they’re standing face-to-face, hands clasped together. “I might sit this one out.”

“Me too,” Willow says quickly. “Tara, if you jump ship, I’ll jump ship with you.”

“You’d leave me alone with B?” Faith pouts.

“Hey,” Buffy says indignantly.

“I j-just never really liked heights,” Tara admits. “Or fast things.”

“C’mon, T, you can’t chicken out on me now.”

“And Will,” Buffy says, “I _need_ you. Who’s gonna hold my hand?”

“You don’t need me—Buffy, you don’t even hold on!”

“Who needs to hold on when I have you?”

“Aww,” Willow says, smiling. And then she narrows her eyes. “Hey. You can’t sweet-talk me into this. I am completely within my rights to—to be a chicken. Nothing can stop me from chickening out.”

“You’re right,” Buffy agrees. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to go on if you don’t want to.”

“Right,” Willow says.

“Yeah.”

They look over at Faith and Tara, who had just reached a similar agreement.

“Guess it’s you and me, B,” Faith says, teasing. “You wanna hold my hand?”

“I’m thinking about keeping ‘em up in the air the whole time,” Buffy says. “So unless you can do the same thing…”

“You callin’ me a wimp?”

“What?” Buffy says innocently. “I’m just pointing out that you talk pretty big for someone who needs to hold onto the handles.”

“What? I don’t!”

“Sure looked like it in the last picture.”

“It was a _relaxed grip._ ”

“Mm-hmm.”

Willow and Tara roll their eyes.

They’re almost at the front now: one more group and they’ll be on.

“Okay. I-I’ll go on,” Tara says, changing her mind again. “But I really am keeping my eyes closed. And I want to sit in the middle.”

“Me too,” Willow says. “I’m sitting between Buffy and Tara.”

Buffy grins.

“Have I mentioned lately that I love you, Will?”

Willow grins back, reaching out for Buffy’s hand. “You could remind me again.”

Faith rolls her eyes as they kiss, paying little mind to the fact that the gates leading to the coaster have just clicked open. “Hey! Lovebirds. We’re up.”

“Right,” Buffy says, breaking away from her girlfriend.

“Uh-huh,” Willow says. “Knew that.”

“I’m really glad we decided to do funnel cake _after_ ,” Tara says nervously.

They cross through the gate and into the row of four seats—first Faith, then Tara, then Willow and Buffy.

“Don’t forget the picture,” Faith calls across the car, as the coaster starts to roll.

Tara forces her eyes shut.


	5. buffy/kendra: beauty, grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kendra doesn’t die in Becoming Pt2, and permanently relocates to sunnydale to continue her training side-by-side with buffy.

“I could beat you,” Kendra says one day, contemplating Buffy from across the table in the library. “At arm-wrestling.”

Buffy crosses her arms and leans forward, resting her elbows on the tabletop. “Wanna bet?”

“I have no money,” Kendra says, frowning. “But if I did, I would win this bet.”

“It’s an expression,” Buffy tells her. “Anyway, me neither. I stopped getting an allowance after Mom and I moved here. My point is: no way, nuh-uh, and I don’t think so, Wishful Thinking Girl. I’ve been a Slayer longer than you have. Remember?”

Kendra shrugs. “It does not matter how long you have been a Slayer. I have been training with my Watcher since I was a baby. I have the strength to prove it.” She grins. “I challenge you.”

“To arm wrestling?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Buffy agrees. “Just promise you won’t be too embarrassed when I win. But first: we need a witness.”

—

“Arm-wrestling?” Giles says, touching his glasses with a deep frown. “Buffy, aren’t you two a little old for such childish competition?”

“Childish shmildish. Grown men arm wrestle, too.” Buffy pauses, considering this. “Okay, you’re right about the ‘childish’, then. But—fun!”

Giles looks indignant, but before he can say anything else, Buffy and Kendra are off, clearing a free space on the library table. Kendra looks Buffy in the eye. “Are you ready?”

“As long as Giles is. He’s referee.”

“Yes,” Giles says, with a small sign. “Go ahead. Have your fun.”

Elbows on tables, hands clasped together, Buffy and Kendra stare into each other’s eyes.

“On the count of three,” Giles says. “One… two… three.”

Nothing happens.

Buffy and Kendra push as hard as they can against the other’s hand, but neither budges. This continues for a minute, and then another, and Giles rolls his eyes.

“I could have told you this would happen,” he says. “You’re too evenly matched.”

“Shh,” hisses Buffy.

“Even? I don’t think so,” Kendra says. “Buffy is just lucky I am feeling tired this afternoon.”

Their hands are vibrating with the effort they’re exerting, and Buffy’s cheeks are tinged pink. “Tired… my… ass,” she manages.

“How long has it been?” Kendra asks. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of her face, but she keeps her voice even.

“Why? You… want to call it… a tie?”

“Just wondering.”

Buffy grins.

“Are you quite done?” Giles asks. “I would much prefer not to stand here all day, waiting for you two to injure yourselves.”

Buffy and Kendra ignore him.

They’re leaning in across the table, face-to-face, inches apart. So close that it’s easy, too easy, for Kendra to lean in and kiss her.

Taken by surprise, Buffy forgets about the game for a split-second long enough for Kendra to pin her arm to the table, even as their lips are still touching.

Buffy pulls away.

“That,” she says, breathless, “was cheating.”

“I don’t see a rulebook,” Kendra grins. “Besides, I have heard it said that all is fair in love and in war.”

“Maybe,” Buffy says, “but I want a rematch.”

“A rematch?”

“Uh-huh. You. Me. This library. I’ll show you who the real winner is.”

(As Buffy leans in to kiss Kendra back, neither Slayer notices Giles exiting the library with remarkable haste.)


	6. faith/mai: target practise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> faith and mai bond while faith gets in a little target practise. Angel & Faith 10x06 extended scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up until “Better,” this fic is a novelization of the comic scene in question, so that it can be read w/o knowledge of the comics. context: faith is on a rescue mission to save riley, along with a group of other slayers.

Faith’s practising her shooting when Mai approaches.

“ _There_ you are,” she says. “I’ve been looking all over.”

“Sorry,” Faith says. She keeps shooting at the target. And missing. “Didn’t know I was missing.”

Mai looks at the bullet holes, amused. “I’m guessing nobody ever taught you to shoot.”

“Meh,” Faith says, lowering the gun. “I’m getting better.”

“Really?”

“Nope.” She walks forward to adjust the target, her back to the other Slayer. “This why you were looking for me? Shooting lessons?”

“First of all, if you’re going to be covering my ass out there, then yeah, you could use some pointers.” Mai moves closer. “But really I just wanted to talk. So, you and Finn. What’s the story?”

Faith still isn’t looking at her. “The boss lady already tried to get that story out of me.”

“Then tell _me_ ,” Mai says. “We’re all supposed to work side by side, but we hardly know you. I’d prefer not to march into the jungle with a stranger.”

Faith isn’t sure why she says it. Maybe it’s Mai’s soft voice, or maybe she really does want to get this off her chest—share it with someone else. Admit her wrongdoing. She turns around.

“Okay. You get the _short_ version.” Faith only meets Mai’s eyes for a moment before turning her gaze to the dusty ground. She kicks a rock with the toe of her boot, and watches it skitter into the weeds. “I didn’t know Riley very well. Just long enough to do something bad to him. He trusted me because… well, let’s say he thought I was a different person. If you’re guessing _magic_ was involved… yeah.”

Still looking down, Faith doesn’t notice Mai’s expression change, softening to match her voice. Doesn’t look up til Mai’s hand is covering her grip on her gun.

“Breathe and squeeze.”

“What?”

Mai slides her hand down Faith’s arm, her other hand on Faith’s shoulder, gently adjusting her grip.

“Breathe easy, then hold it right when you shoot. Squeeze the trigger, don’t jerk it.”

“I _know_ ,” Faith says, sounding much more indignant than she feels. “They told us that the first day. Basic stuff.”

“Knowing isn’t the same as doing. It’s practise you lack, not knowledge.”

Mai pushes Faith’s elbow up a little as she points the gun at the target again, and shoots.

The bullet doesn’t hit the center, but it comes a lot closer than her other attempts.

“Better,” Mai says. She pushes Faith’s elbow up again. “Try again.”

The second shot reaches the target.

“Hey,” Faith says, grinning despite herself. “Nice.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks.”

Mai lets go, dropping her hands from Faith’s elbow and shoulder, but Faith catches her wrist.

“Wait,” she says.

“What?”

Mai is so close that Faith can smell her shampoo: even in this stinking jungle, she smells like flowers.

How do you say “stay with me” and “I’ve been so damn lonely” and “it’s been forever since someone touched me without wanting to fuck me or hurt me” to a chick you’ve just met?

“Uh,” Faith says. “You have an eyelash. Here.”

She reaches towards Mai’s face and swipes her thumb over her cheek.

“Gone?” Mai says.

“Yup.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

“Can I—?” Mai starts.

“Right,” Faith says. “Yeah.” She lets go of Mai’s arm. “Later, M.”

Mai looks amused.

“What?”

“Who said I was going anywhere?”

Faith frowns. “Dunno. Figured you were… off on your merry way again.”

“No,” Mai says. “I’m not leaving you alone with a gun. Something might get hurt. Like one of those trees.” She indicates the jungle behind the post Faith is using for target practise. “Or… I dunno. A nest of baby birds. Can’t you see trying to clean up that mess on your own.”

“You don’t think I’d save a baby bird?”

“I don’t know what to think of you yet,” Mai says, pulling her own gun out of her backpack pocket. “I like you. And I want to trust you. But I don’t know you.”

Faith feels like Mai already knows her better than anyone else in this camp.

“Right,” she says.

“Right,” Mai repeats, with a grin. “So budge over. I’m gonna show you how it’s done.”


	7. faith/nadira: help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> faith and nadira talk at a bar. set in Angel & Faith s9.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty sure the only background info necessary to understand this fic is that nadira is another slayer, whose entire squad (s8 story) was killed. in s9, she deals with a lot of trauma and survivor’s guilt.

“Believe it or not, I know how you feel,” Faith says, reaching out to touch Nadira’s shoulder. “I know what’s it like to lose everything. To think about nothing but revenge, ‘cause the world went and screwed you and it isn’t fair. But you’ve got to find something else to live for.”

“Right,” Nadira says. She sounds insincere, but she doesn’t shrug Faith’s hand away. She looks over at Faith out of the corner of her eye. “And I haven’t lost everything. Got one thing left, don’t I? I’ll get my revenge. It keeps me going. Keeps me wanting to see tomorrow. I can’t give that up.”

Damn, had Faith been this stubborn? She fights the urge to shake the other Slayer, not really wanting to start a bar fight, and takes another sip of her beer.

“It’s making you crazy,” Faith says bluntly. “You’re hurting your friends. The people who actually care about you.”

She remembers doing the same. Pushing Buffy away ‘cause she didn’t deserve a friend like her. Didn’t deserve for anyone to care about her. After all, how do you respond to affection when you’ve never really known it?

“They’re better off without me,” Nadira shrugs. “And I’m fine on my own, anyway.”

“No, you aren’t. You’re a fucking wreck on your own, and you know it. You’ve got to let it go. Move the fuck on.”

Nadira does shrug Faith’s hand off now, turning around to glare at her.

“How do I ‘move the fuck on’ from watching all of my friends die in front of me?”

“By thinking about the ones that lived, dammit,” Faith says angrily. She’s said this before, and it’s making her impatient now. “Take my advice, Nadira. Quit while you’re ahead. While you still _have_ friends.”

“That’s bloody easy for you to say,” Nadira says. “You don’t know what it’s like to have friends.”

Faith freezes, staring back at her with an even expression. “I thought we were.” She turns to leave, walk away, give up on this girl despite the months they’ve spent together, but Nadira catches her arm.

“I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry.”

“Right.”

“I was angry.”

“Yeah.”

“You told me to move the fuck on.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So I got angry. Look, you’re right, okay? I’m shit on my own. But maybe I don’t want to think about that. And maybe I haven’t thought past killing Nash & Pearl. Maybe...” Nadira lets go of Faith. “Maybe I haven’t wanted to, because... I don’t think I’ll need to.”

“What? That’s it? Live it up, hurt your friends, do whatever the fuck you want without apologizing to anyone, ‘cause you think your mission’s gonna be a suicide?”

_No_ , Faith thinks. _No, no, no_ —

“Maybe,” Nadira says again. She shrugs.

“No,” Faith says aloud.

“No, what? It’s my life, Faith! Stop trying to save me.”

“I’m not trying to save you,” Faith says defensively, but the words taste hollow in her mouth.

She’d do anything to save this girl.

“Why do you even care? Because I’m like you? What am I to you, Faith? Some kind of redemption mission?”

“I thought you were my friend,” Faith says coldly. “I thought you were someone cool. Someone I liked. And I think you’ve had enough to drink.” She snatches Nadira’s almost-empty cup and drains the rest of the beer before Nadira can stop her.

“You just stole my drink.”

“Yup.”

Nadira stares at her for a second, and then, inexplicably starts to laugh. She laughs so hard that her body shakes, and she leans forward against the bar, dropping her head into her hands and laughing, and laughing, until it turns to sobs.

The bartender gives her a look, and Faith flips him a middle finger.

“Come on,” she says, putting her arm around Nadira and pulling her back up. “Time to go home.”

Nadira wipes the tears from her eyes, and her mascara smears across her cheekbones. She looks like a damn disaster, not that Faith’s gonna point it out.

“I don’t want to sleep alone tonight,” Nadira says, allowing Faith to guide her to the front of the club and out the door, into the cool London night.

Faith can tell it was hard for her to get the words out. She knows the feeling. Know how hard it is to ask for help, or even for company.

“I’ll stay,” she says, answering the unspoken question.

They won’t talk about it later.


	8. buffy/willow/tara: renaissance

This lecture on Leonardo Da Vinci probably would have held her attention if she’d actually been focusing on it. After all, Buffy had quite enjoyed the lecture on Michelangelo, and Da Vinci was equally as iconic. However, during the Michelangelo lecture, her situation had been a little different.

For starters, Willow hadn’t been doing _that_.

Willow sits to her right, stroking the back of Buffy’s hand with her thumb while she takes notes with her free hand. Unfairly, she doesn’t look nearly as distracted as Buffy feels. Willow’s hand is so soft, and small, and warm—so unlike Angel’s, in every respect. _Maybe Willow is just more used to holding a girl’s hand_ , Buffy thinks. After all, she’d already been dating Tara when Buffy had been added to the mix.

Tara. Tara who sits to Buffy’s left, with a light strawberry perfume. Had she been wearing it yesterday? Buffy’s pretty sure she would have noticed. Is it new? It’s making Buffy think about things that are very much not The Last Supper. Like kissing Tara’s hair. Mmm.

Buffy pulls Willow’s hand into her lap and leans over sideways to rest her head against Tara’s shoulder. She thinks she can feel Tara smile.

There are still twenty minutes left. Buffy could probably fall asleep like this, but— _no_ , she needs to focus. She’ll probably have to write an essay on this in a couple weeks. But Tara’s sweater is so soft on her cheek, and—

“You okay, baby?” Tara whispers.

“Hmm,” Buffy says. “Just feeling a little sleepy. And a little needy.”

“Lecture’s almost over. We can have a picnic outside.”

“With cafeteria pizza?”

“You bet.”

“Okay,” Buffy agrees, with a sleepy smile.

Her eyes drift close a little, and before she knows it, Willow’s giving her hand a gentle tug.

“Buffy, wake up.”

“’M not sleeping!” Buffy says, as quickly and as intelligibly as she can manage, sitting up straight in her seat.

“Sure you weren’t, sweetie,” Tara teases. “You want a copy of my notes?”

“Yes, please.”

“Willow, picnic?” Tara asks.

“It’s a beauty day,” Willow says. “Cafeteria pizza?”

Tara grins.

“So, that Raphael,” Willow says, leading the way down the steps of the lecture hall. “Pretty cool dude, am I right?”

“Ooh, yes,” Tara says. “I love when he did the thing with the—”

“With the thing!” Willow says excitedly. “I know!”

“Did I wake up in a week?” Buffy asks, shrugging her backpack onto her shoulder. “I thought today was Da Vinci!”

“It was,” Willow says, patting Buffy on the arm and then grabbing the door on its way shut, holding it open for Buffy and Tara. “I was just checkin’ to see how awake you were.”

“Cheeky,” Buffy says. “I only slept for a little bit, though. I got, um. Most of it. Some of it. Okay, so, I couldn’t tell you anything new about the guy, _but_ I’ve got you two for study buddies, so I think I’ll be fine.”

“Study buddies,” Tara smirks.

“Learn-y lovers?” Buffy suggests.

“Well, that’s... less platonic,” Willow agrees. “But also, much less catchy.”

“We could go over it tonight?” Tara says. “W-We could use my room, even though it’s smaller. I bought some new candles, and it smells really nice.”

“Ooh,” Buffy says. “Strawberry?”

“Yeah,” Tara says. “How did you know?”

Buffy leans in to plant a kiss just above Tara’s ear. “Hmm,” she says. “It’s in your hair. I like.” She straightens up again and catches Willow’s hand. “So. Cafeteria pizza?”


	9. buffy/rose: the breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> while rose is travelling through dimensions, searching for the doctor and her original planet earth, she stumbles upon a club called the bronze. post-tabula rasa.
> 
> crossover with doctor who.

One of the things Rose has learned so far is that just because a world _looks_ like her Earth, doesn’t mean that it is. In fact, it doesn’t mean a damn thing.

This town looks like an Earth town. _Feels_ like Earth’s atmosphere. Of course, she’d thought that about the last six places she’d landed. Five had been parallel worlds, and one had been another planet altogether. Goes to show how much a simple look-around helps to figure out if you’re in the right place or not.

_‘Course, most people never have to worry about it_ , Rose muses, walking slowly through the streets in search of a stray newspaper or a sports bar with a television. _Most people don’t get stuck in another dimension._

There’s a club of some sort up ahead. _The Bronze_ , the sign says. If this _is_ a parallel Earth, she’ll be able to blend in with the people there. Maybe overhear something.

Rose smiles at the bouncer on the way in, and shoulders her way through the crowd to the bar. A beer would be nice, but she doesn’t know if her ID will hold up here—wherever _here_ is—so it’s ice water or bust.

The girl next to Rose looks over at her when she speaks, looking away again when she catches her eye.

“It’s the accent, right?” Rose says. Damn it all. She’d landed in America again.

The girl shrugs. “Sorry. It’s just… I’ve only ever heard _old_ people with British accents. Wesley and Giles—” She stops abruptly.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“About what?”

“I dunno,” Rose says. “You seem… sad.”

“It’s nothing. I just… had a long day. A long, weird, day.”

“What happened?”

“Someone who matters a lot to me kinda… left. Me. The country. _And_ , before that, me and all of my friends kind of lost our mem—” The girls looks up suddenly, alarmed. “ _Memos_. We all lost our memos. We were supposed to meet in one place, but instead, there was this huge misunderstanding.”

“That’s rough,” Rose says sympathetically.

“Yeah. People are always like, ‘I’m doing this for your own good,’ but do they ever ask me what _I_ think my own good is?”

“God, I know.”

“You do?”

Rose nods and takes a sip of her water.

“So it’s not just me! I was starting to wonder—you know. That it was a problem… with me. That there’s something _wrong_. With _me_. And—why am I telling you this?”

Rose shrugs. “I have a friendly face."

“I don’t think that’s it.”

“I know. I lost the friendly face ten apocalypses back. I’m Rose.”

“Buffy. When you say ten apocalypses…” 

“’M kidding.”

“Right,” Buffy agrees, with a weak laugh. “Like there’d be that many apocalypses.”

“Right.”

Maybe Rose is just desperate to find someone who might possibly be able to relate to her circumstances, but she thinks somehow that Buffy understands. This girl has seen things other people haven’t.

“So what’s your story?” Buffy asks. “Distract me from my pain.”

“I’m lookin’ for someone,” Rose says carefully.

“How’d you lose them?”

“’S a long story.”

“Does it involve pain and heartbreak and words like ‘you deserve better’?”

“Yes, and no. Yeah to pain, _and_ heartbreak. But there weren’t many words involved at all. It was more of an action thing. An’ it wasn’t his fault, in the end.”

“If you don’t blame him,” Buffy asks, “do you blame yourself? ‘Cause that’s what I do. People I love always leave, and... it’s a pattern... a pattern of pain, and... heartbreak... so—it’s gotta be me. At least in part. Right?” She stops and frowns. “God, you were talking about your problems, and here I go, making it all about me. If I weren’t so self-involved—”

“You’re not,” Rose interrupts, but kindly. “Don’t worry.”

Buffy looks over at her like she’s worrying a little.

“I don’t blame myself,” Rose says. “And you shouldn’t either. I was—holding on to something.” She chooses her words carefully, trying not to give anything away, or sound like she’s crazy. “Holding onto something so important to me. And I let go, completely by accident. But I don’t focus on that. If I woke up every day and said to myself, ‘Rose, you were too weak to hold on,’ I don’t know if I could keep going. Do you know what I mean? So instead, I just focus on getting it back. Recovering what I’ve lost.”

“I didn’t let go,” Buffy says miserably. She kicks the bar with her toe, just hard enough to make the water in Rose’s glass ripple. “I was still holding on. To all of them. They just pulled away, before I was ready for them to go.” She looks up at Rose. “Are you sure I’m not self-involved?”

Rose shrugs. “Sometimes it’s good to think about yourself. After all, you’re a person, too.”

“Right,” Buffy says.

“Your friend who left the country today,” Rose says. “Why was that?”

Buffy looks a little like she might kick something again.

“He said he was _standing in my way_. What does that even mean, ‘standing in my way’? God, I’m so... I needed him. I can’t do this without him. How will I...”

"How will you what?”

“How will I live?” Buffy says softly. “How will I survive?”

“Has he always been there?” Rose asks.

“Yes,” Buffy says. And then: “Well, no. Not exactly. But he’s been there for years, now. He’s always been someone I could count on. He was more of a dad to me than my own dad. And...” She pauses, visibly debating whether or not to finish her sentence. “And my mom is gone, and now _him_ , so now it’s just me and my sister and I’m alone again and I have to take care of her, and me, and God, I don’t...”

She collapses inward, hugging herself tightly as the tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

Rose is out of her seat in a jiffy, wrapping Buffy up in a hug that Buffy returns immediately, clinging to Rose like a lifeline as she cries.

“Come on, love,” Rose says gently. “Let’s get you some fresh air.”

Outside the club, the air is humid, but Buffy can cry without attracting curious stares, which is preferable for the both of them.

“I’m so sorry,” Buffy says, once the tears have dried up. “I didn’t mean to—a-and I just met you, and now I’ve gotten mascara all over your jacket, and—”

“It’s okay,” Rose assures her. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m glad you turned up,” Buffy admits. “Before you did, I... I saw someone I know. At the Bronze. And I was thinking about maybe...” She shrugs helplessly. “You saved me from making a bad decision. Seriously bad. The worst. So... thank you.”

Rose smiles. “’M glad.”

“We should talk again,” Buffy said. “Um. If you want to, that is, ‘cause I’d understand if you never wanted to see me again, and—”

“I can’t,” Rose says, genuinely regretful.

“Right.”

“No, I mean it,” Rose says. “I’m just... passing through. ‘M not even staying the night.”

“If you change your mind, you could have the couch. At my place, I mean. Um. ‘Cause no one sleeps there.”

“I’d love to, if I could. I really do have to get going, though.” Rose leans in to hug Buffy again.

“Much less with the tears,” Buffy comments, and Rose smiles.

“It was good meeting you, Buffy.”

Buffy nods. “You too.”

“Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“I’d like that,” Buffy says.

With a last little wave, Rose turns to leave, heading back up the street to where she’d landed.

She’s just passing through; she shouldn’t even be here. Still, she’s glad that she was.


	10. cordelia/harmony: waterfalls

“Harm,” Cordelia says, as she swats bugs away from her face. “Whose brilliant idea _was_ this?”

“Um,” Harmony says, frowning as she thinks about it. “Yours?”

“Why would _I_ ever suggest this? I’m being eaten alive. How come _you_ don’t have to pick bugs out of your hair?”

Harmony shrugs. “Maybe bugs don’t like vampires.”

“Oh, yeah,” Cordelia says, wrinking her nose. “No circulation. Well, no fair. I think I’m getting twice as many. It’s too bad you don’t repel them completely. The bug spray isn’t working at all, _and_ it makes me smell funny.”

“It’s bad,” Harmony agrees. “I don’t even wanna bite you.”

“You don’t?”

“Ew, no. And get a mouthful of chemicals? I don’t think so.”

“Vampire repellant!” Cordelia says, briefly interested by the idea, til she remembers that, in this instance, it means that it girlfriend finds her unappealing. “You think I’m gross,” she frowns. “Ugh, I’m gonna kill Angel.”

“Why Angel?”

“He was the one who was waxing poetic about this stupid waterfall. ‘Cordy, you’ll love it. It’s super beautiful. A wonder of this world. And, unlike all those clothes you buy, it costs, like, zero dollars!’”

“Yeah. I’d rather be shopping,” Harmony says.

“That’s ‘cause you don’t have to pay for stuff,” Cordelia says dismissively.

“Well… true.” Harmony grins. “Hey—do you hear that?”

The sound of rushing water is getting louder as they follow the boardwalk along the river: they’re getting closer to the waterfall.

“Yeah,” Cordelia says. “More water. Yay.”

The forest opens up to reveal it: a colossal downpouring of water, cascading over jagged rocks.

“Cool,” Harmony says.

“Less bugs here,” Cordelia agrees.

“I meant the waterfall.”

“It’s… big.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yep.”

They lean against the railing for a minute, watching the waterfall, before turning to face each other.

“Wanna go home?” Harmony asks.

“God, yes,” Cordelia says.

Harmony takes her hand.


	11. faith/amy: stop, go

Faith settles down in front of Wendy’s with a box of chicken nuggets and watches out the window as cars enter and exit the parking lot. She’s not sure where she’s going next, or if it even matters. Maybe in a westward direction.

“Can you spare some change?”

Faith looks up at the voice, ready to tell whomever it is to _piss off_ (does it _look_ like she has change to spare?) until she meets the girl’s eyes.

She’s around Faith’s age, and she looks… tired. She’s running, too. Faith can tell.

“Nope.” It’s a second-long internal debate, but some part of her that’s still capable of feeling empathy twists her arm into offering the girl her food. Her food. She holds out the box of nuggets. “You want one?”

“Goddess, yes. Can I…?” The girl indicates the seat across from Faith.

“Uh. Sure.”

“Thanks. I’m Amy, by the way.”

“Faith,” Faith says gruffly, watching with slight regret as Amy accepts a proffered chicken nugget.

“I’ll pay you back,” Amy says, sensing Faith’s reluctance.

“Right,” Faith says, very much meaning ‘like hell you will.’

“Lying to make people feel better never does work, does it,” Amy comments.

“Nope.”

“Can I have another?”

“Nope.”

Amy shrugs. “Okay.”

“Look, A. I’m not trying to make friends here. I stopped to get some chicken nuggets and in a few minutes, I’m outta here.”

“Who said anything about friends?”

Faith gives Amy a sideways look, but continues eating without comment.

“You really do look like you could use some company. I’ve only been travelling alone for a few days, and it sucks already. You seem like you’ve been going a lot longer.”

“Yeah,” Faith says around her last mouthful of chicken. “You wanna know what I know? You can’t trust people.”

“I know,” Amy says. “Goddess, I know that. You can’t trust your own _mother_. Doesn’t mean you should be alone.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one, it’s fucking boring.”

Faith snorts: it’s a laugh, almost.

“You got me there, A.”

“So,” Amy says, grinning. “Can I come with you?”

“And here I thought you just wanted my cash and my food,” Faith says wryly. But she’s feeling charitable. “Fine. Whatever. But you owe me a chicken nugget.”

“You bet,” Amy agrees easily. She leans in across the table. “You wanna get out of here?”

Faith stands up, giving the Wendy’s behind her one last wistful look.

“Let’s roll.”


	12. darla/dru: red

“Hold still, will you,” Darla says. “You’re going to make a mess.”

“A delightful mess,” Dru says, stopping her swaying to hold her arms steady. “Spill, spill, spilling red across the line of fate.”

“Uh-huh.” Darla catches Dru’s hands again and applies the red polish to another nail. “When I spill ‘red’, I’d rather it be blood, not nail polish. And I don’t want it on the bed.”

Dru watches, mesmerized, as Darla paints the rest of her nails. She’s got a good, steady hand from years of practise. When the red is finished, Darla goes over the tip of each nail with a white brush, completing the look.

“Ooooh,” Dru says, holding her hands up to contemplate them. She smiles. “I’m a princess.”

Darla smiles, too. Dru’s had her nails done this way a hundred times, but it never fails to delight her. Even now, the hundred-and-first time.

“Yes, you are. Are you ready?”

Dru spins around to show Darla that the back of her dress is only done up halfway. “My arms couldn’t reach.”

Darla stops Dru with a hand on her shoulder and gives the zipper a tug, sliding it the rest of the way up. When she gets to the top, she places a kiss at the nape of Dru’s neck. “There you are.”

“Can we go to the fair?” Dru asks. “There are people eating sweet things.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want? We could go the theatre. Take in a play. I think Macbeth is on.”

“I like the fair. It has candy cotton.”

“You hate cotton candy. It gets stuck in your teeth.”

“But it’s so beautiful.”

Darla shrugs. There’s no point in arguing with Drusilla. Whenever she tries, her head goes in circles.

“Alright,” she agrees. “We’ll go to the fair. But this time, I’m _not_ going on the carousel.”


	13. buffy/willow: jupiter

“They’re all so cute,” Willow says, pressing her face to the glass of the kitten display. “How do people choose just one?”

“If it’s too hard, we don’t have to get a kitten,” Buffy says. “We could get more fish. Maybe Bob is lonely.”

“No,” Willow says, with a little sigh. “We have to get one. Buffy, look. They’re so sweet. We can’t leave them here.”

There are five kittens: one white, two orange, two tabby.

“We’re gonna have to leave four here,” Buffy points out.

“What if we get two? So that they don’t get lonely while we’re at work.”

“There’s Bob.”

“A kitty will want to _eat_ Bob.”

Buffy frowns, crinkling her nose. “Good point.”

“I mean it, Buffy: it’s a good idea! I read that it’s good to get two cats if you’re not home a lot.”

“We could each choose one,” Buffy says, thinking aloud. She’s warming to the idea.

Willow grins.

“But _how_ do I choose one?”

“See! That’s what I was saying.”

“‘Cause, the white one. She has that tiny little spot on her nose. It’s so cute. And the orange ones? They’re like… mini Willows! They match your hair. And—and the little tabbies…” Buffy’s face is pressed up against the glass, too, as she stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Willow. “Will… I _can’t_ pick one.”

“We could get them all?” Willow suggests.

“We _can’t_ get them all,” Buffy says. “Can we?”

“We shouldn’t.”

“Right,” Buffy agrees. “Okay. One each.” She thinks. “What are some tree names?”

“Um. Maple. Elm. Aspen. Juniper. Rowan—”

“Juniper,” Buffy says. “Isn’t that a planet?”

“That’s Jupiter.”

“Oh.”

“Why do you want a tree name?”

“‘Cause… you’re Willow, and I want a tree to keep me company when you’re not around. It’s symbolic.” Buffy loops her arm through Willow’s. “Maybe Juniper. Ooh! I could nickname her Junie.”

“I like Junie,” Willow says, smiling. “I might go with… some kind of witchy plant. I think… Cherrywood.”

“Will,” Buffy says.

“What? You don’t like Cherrywood?”

“I like it,” Buffy says, “but we’re picking out names before we’ve picked out kittens.”

“Ooh. Right.”

—

They don’t take all five kittens.

The dustier of the two tabbies becomes Junie, and the white kitten becomes Cherrywood—despite the reddish colour of her namesake.

“Did you ladies need help getting everything out to your car?” the cashier asks, indicating the two kitten-occupied carriers, the litter box, and the supersized bags of litter and food.

“No,” Buffy says breezily. “We’ll be fine.” She turns to Willow. “You’ll hold Cherry?”

“Of course,” Willow says, picking up the white kitten’s carrier and peering in at her. “She looks nervous. Don’t you think she looks nervous?”

“She’ll be okay in a few minutes.”

Buffy hefts up all of the pet supplies onto her right shoulder before picking up the second carrier case.

“Let’s go home.”


	14. anya/tara: tumbling

“Can I put up a big picture of me?” Anya asks, leaning over Tara’s shoulder to look at the computer screen. “Why doesn’t your blog have a big picture of you?

“Well, it… it’s not really about me,” Tara says. “It’s more… for me. Does that make sense?”

Anya considers this. “How?”

“How is it for me?”

Anya nods.

“Well, I use it to… to learn things, and to get ideas, and to be inspired by other people.”

“You could inspire other people with your face,” Anya suggests. “You have an excellent smile, especially when it does the thing where it’s asymmetrical. Which is curious, because people typically assume that symmetrical faces are the most attractive.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Tara says, granting Anya one of the smiles in question. She’d learned long ago to accept Anya’s compliments for what they were, rather than to question them. “Anyway, you have to be following the right people, or else it’s horrendously depressing.”

“Yes,” Anya says. “I’ve heard you complain about the terrible spelling.”

“The spelling is awful,” Tara says. “But it’s not just that. A lot of people are really mean. It’s easy to get your feelings hurt.”

“If I were still an avenging demon, I could turn their insides to their outsides for you.”

Tara winces. “I don’t know if anyone deserves _that_.”

“Some people do.” At Tara’s glance, Anya adds: “Or not. But I could still rip ‘em a good one. With my words.”

“Really, the best thing is not the interact with them at all.”

“Huh,” Anya says, unconvinced. “Can I have more than one?”

“Blog?”

“Yeah. Can I have two?”

“Sure. You can have as many as you want.”

“Okay,” Anya says happily. “Don’t look.”

“What?”

“I’m going to make mine now. Don’t look. Move your bottom to the next room. I’ll call you back when it’s finished.”

—

“Why?” Tara asks, gaping like a fish after Anya summons her back to the computer desk set up in their bedroom.

“Well, I needed to have a page for the Magic Box. And I wanted a page to talk about my favourite thing. So—look! Big picture of us!”

“Our relationship is your favourite thing?”

“Financial stability comes in close second.”

Tara laughs and kisses her.


	15. buffy/willow: natural 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> buffy & willow play dnd with xander, but they’re not so focused on the plot.

“There’s a rowboat chained up near the water,” Xander is saying. “It’s old and kinda rickety-looking, and it’s definitely been there a while.”

“Will it hold two people without sinking?” Willow asks. “I mean, is it sturdy enough?”

“Roll an investigation check.”

“Which one is that again?” Buffy asks. She picks up one of her dice and squints at it. “Is this the one? Ooh! Yes. There’s the little twenty.”

She and Willow both roll. Willow lands a nineteen, and Buffy gets—

“One?” Buffy says. “This game hates me.” She slumps back in her chair with a disgruntled huff.

“Will, you go and take a closer look at the boat,” Xander says. “Even though it’s old, you can tell that the craftsmanship is top-notch. The bottom boards are sandy and faded, made from redwood. The hull is white oak, and it’s pretty much standing up to the test of time. You walk around to the back, and you notice that the stern is chipped, but—”

Buffy reaches out for Willow’s hand, tugging her closer as Xander goes on about the ‘top-notch craftsmanship’ of the boat. Willow leans in, and Buffy kisses her shoulder.

“Meanwhile,” Xander says loudly, as Willow slides onto Buffy’s lap, “Buffy isn’t paying any attention at all, so she doesn’t notice any of that stuff.”

“Oops,” Buffy says, grinning. She wraps her arms around Willow’s waist. “What am I looking at instead?”

“Well,” Xander says, “you start to follow Willow over to the boat, but you—”

“Get distracted looking at her shiny, shiny hair?” Buffy guesses, planting a kiss on the hair in question.

Willow grins.

“Fine,” Xander says. “Okay. You get distracted looking at her shiny, shiny hair, so you don’t notice the log sticking out of the water.”

“Uh-oh.”

“You trip and land face-first in the river.”

Buffy frowns. “I thought I was a paladin with grace and skill and stuff.”

“You rolled a critical fail, Buf.”

“Darn.”

“I want to help her!” Willow says. “I, uh… stop looking at the boat, and go to help Buffy up.”

“My hero,” Buffy says, grinning.

As Xander watches, exasperated, Willow turns to kiss Buffy on the mouth. Just for a moment. Or, okay, maybe for a few moments. Maybe for—

“Dear God,” Xander says. “Would you two stop kissing for two minutes?”

“I can do two minutes,” Buffy says. She looks at Willow. “Can you do two minutes?”

“Two minutes. I dunno. Two minutes sounds like a long time.”

“Maybe one?” Buffy suggests. “A compromise.”

“We’re teasing, Xand,” Willow says, at the look on Xander’s face. “We’ll stop. Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” Xander says. “Willow, roll for… dexterity, to see if you can help Buffy up.”

Willow rolls an eighteen, and Buffy’s legs are successfully untangled.

“Thank you so much, kind elf,” Buffy says, with dramatic gratitude. “I never would’ve managed that on my own. How can I _ever_ repay you?”

“Okay, this isn’t fair,” Xander says, as Buffy kisses Willow again. “If I rescued you, you’d probably kick me in the face, but Will gets… um, ladies… would you rather I… okay, should I leave?” He takes a deep breath. “I should leave.”

“God, sorry, Xander,” Buffy says, breaking away from Willow. “I forgot you were there for a second.”

“Comforting. Thank you.”

“I was just… so grateful, you know? For Willow helping me.”

“Your characters just met ten minutes ago,” Xander points out.

“Maybe Paladin-Buffy likes to move fast.”

“I don’t mind,” Willow says, grinning.

“Can I get on with the story?” Xander asks. “You promised the villagers you’d check out that cave on the other side of the river. Remember? You’re not gonna find anything here.”

“Ooh,” Willow says. “Can I look anyway? ‘Cause there might be something.”

“I’m gonna look with her,” Buffy says, jumping in. “I want my clothes to dry off before I go anywhere, anyway.”

“Aw, I forgot you got all wet.” Willow touches Buffy’s face. “I bet you have sand all over your face, and leaves in your hair and stuff.”

“You could help with that.”

“Oh no,” Xander says, and Willow tilts Buffy’s chin up to kiss her again. “No no no… I knew this was a terrible idea.” He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. Why did I believe this _wouldn’t_ be a terrible idea?”

“It wasn’t terrible,” Willow says. “We’re having fun! Are you having fun, Buffy?”

Buffy giggles. “Now you’re all wet and sandy, too.”

Xander stands up. “Okay, that’s it! I’m just gonna… go. I’ll be… somewhere. If you’re looking for me…” He shakes his head. “Nevermind.”

“I made Xander feel bad,” Buffy says sadly, after Xander leaves.

“You? I’m pretty sure it was an _us_ thing.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll go visit him later, and bring lots and lots of cookies.” Willow adjusts her position in Buffy’s lap and leans in to kiss her neck. “But for now, I know another _us_ thing we can do.”


	16. faith/willow: redemption roadtrip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after their respective falls from grace, willow and faith take a trip together.

“Never thought that outta B’s gang of lawful friends, you’d be the one to break,” Faith says, keeping her eyes on the road. “Should’ve seen it coming, though. They say you gotta look out for the nice ones.”

“The not-as-nice ones, too,” Willow says. “Anyone can go in the wrong direction, given the right circumstances.”

They’re quiet for a moment, neither ever quite sure what to say around each other. They’re inherently different, sharing little in common besides a certain fondness for Buffy. Until recently, that is. Until Willow tried to end the world and killed a man, and her own friends began to fear her.

“Did you…” Willow starts. “I mean… was it fun? For you? The evil thing?”

“Sure,” Faith says. “For a while. Had everything I wanted, didn’t I?”

“I guess so.”

More silence.

“And, uh. You?” Faith asks.

“Did I like being evil?”

Faith shrugs.

“I… I guess. I mean, I haven’t really thought about it. I mean—no, actually.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Red. I’ve been where’ve you’ve been.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Willow says. “A-And I’m not lying. Really. It wasn’t fun because I was so angry. About… Tara. And then I got all that extra magic from Giles, and I wasn’t angry. I was helpless. Or, I wasn’t, but I felt it. I felt… all the pain, and… and all the hurt, everywhere. And I wanted to end it all.”

“Huh. B left out that part of the you-almost-ended-the-world story.”

“Well, I-I guess it was kinda personal. For me.”

“You were about to wipe out everyone on the planet. I think that makes it a little less personal and a little more ‘universal’.”

“All I meant is, no one else has ever had to feel what I felt.”

Faith shrugs again, and Willow turns to look out the window. They’re in the middle of nowhere at the moment: trees, trees, more trees, and the occasional gas station dot the landscape.

“I was so far gone that I wouldn’t have cared if I’d done it,” Willow continues, speaking to the trees as much as to Faith. Some things are hard to admit out loud. “I would have ended the world, and I wouldn’t have cared. That scares me.”

“I was gonna let everyone get eaten,” Faith says.

“Would you have cared?” Willow asks, looking over at Faith now. “Do you think you would have regretted it, if the Mayor had won?”

Faith shrugs. “Dunno. Part of me says I’d have missed B, eventually. Part of me says that I was too far gone to care. I’d have been rid of the only person who could stop me from having anything I wanted, so I’d have kept going.”

“Does that scare you?”

Faith grins, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Only a few things I’ve ever been scared of. Couple of demons, when I was just startin’ out. And the other thing.”

“The other thing?”

“Me,” Faith says simply.

Willow reaches over to touch her shoulder: a touch that lingers past sympathy and into the territory of ‘ _I know. I understand._ ’

“Red?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” Faith says. “For comin’ along.”

For the first time that day, Willow smiles.


	17. tara/faith: lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> party-planning + slow-dancing. side of buffy/willow.

“Are you sure we aren’t going overboard, sweetie?” Tara asks, looking with concern at the dozen bags of party supplies Faith had dumped by the front door. “I’m pretty sure they won’t be expecting this many balloons.”

“That’s why we gotta have them, T,” Faith says. She’s busy sticking streamers over the kitchen doorway, and doesn’t look up from her meticulous tape job. “Gotta go above and beyond.”

“Don’t get me wrong—I do think Buffy and Willow deserve a good party. It’s just that…” Tara trails off. Faith’s over-zealous decorating might lead to sticky walls full of thumb-tack holes, but her willingness to go the extra mile for her friends is so charming that’s she’s certain the other couple will forgive them, even if they do keep finding tape on every possible surface for weeks to come.

“What?” Faith asks, turning around to fix disappointed eyes on Tara.

“It’s just that you’ve taken on way too many decorating tasks for one person,” Tara finishes. “What do you want me to do? I can start blowing up the balloons.”

Faith lights up immediately.

“The red ones go in the front one,” she instructs. “And the black ones go in the living room.”

“Got it,” Tara says, smiling. “I’m not sure how many I’ll be able to do, but I’ll get started. We only have,” she checks her watch, “three hours left to get everything ready.”

“Damn,” Faith says. “It’s two already?”

“Only just.”

“At the food will get here at—”

“Five-thirty,” Tara finishes. “Don’t worry about it, baby,” she adds, before Faith can get her next question out. “They’re not going to forget.” She crosses the front hall and holds out her hand to Faith, who steps down from her step-ladder to join her on solid ground. Tara slides her arms around Faith’s waist and tugs her close, pressing a quick kiss to her mouth. “Don’t worry,” she says again. “Okay? It’ll all be perfect.”

“I’ve never done this before, is all,” Faith says gruffly, after returning Tara’s kiss. “I’ve never…” She stops and shrugs, but Tara knows what she means.

_Never had a group of friends before._

“You’re doing great,” Tara says.

“Kinda _feel_ like I’ve thought of everything,” Faith agrees. “But we’re wasting time, babe. I got more streamers to hang, and you’ve got a shitton of balloons to blow up.”

They get back to work.

—

“Oh my God,” Buffy says, nearly dropping the flowers she’s holding.

There are streamers _everywhere_. Streamers on the windows and doorframes and doorknobs. Streamers on the curtains and cupboards and wall clocks.

And balloons. Dozens of them. (Faith had helped Tara more than a little.)

“Um. Surprise!” Tara says, emerging from the kitchen. “I know we told you not to expect guests before seven, but Faith, um—we, I mean—wanted to do something. For you. To make it extra-special.”

“It is! God,” Buffy says again. “Where is Faith?”

“Over here, B,” Faith calls, from under the futon in the living room.

Buffy frowns. “Why are you under my couch?”

Faith sticks her arm out, waving a handful of string lights around. “Gonna light it up from underneath,” she says. “It’ll be wicked.”

Buffy stares for a second, and then shrugs. “Sweet. The house has never been so decked-out before.”

“Where’s Willow?” Tara asks.

“Oh, she had to work late,” Buffy says. “Something to do with the computer program she’s designing. Uh, I think it was having some troubles. But she’ll be home soon.”

She heads to the kitchen, and Tara follows, standing aside as Buffy locates a large glass in a cupboard over the sink and fills it halfway with water.

“I don’t really have anything better to put flowers in,” she says, as she sticks the bouquet in the glass.

“They look nice like that.”

Tara sits down at the table while Faith finishes with the lights and Buffy grabs a second glass to drink from.

“So… this year. It’s been good, right?”

“The best,” Buffy says. “I can’t imagine life without her. Without… all of this. Hopefully I never have to.” She smiles. “You and Faith seem happy.”

“We are,” Tara says. “And I know exactly what you mean.”

“Hey, T,” Faith calls. “Need a hand.”

“I better go see what Faith’s up to,” Tara says apologetically.

“You’d better,” Buffy agrees with a grin. “And, before I go get changed into a more party-suitable outfit—Tara?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Buffy. We’re both so happy for you and Willow.”

Buffy surprises her with a hug, and Tara knows that their efforts were worth it.

—

“Do you want to sit this one out?” Tara asks, when a slow song comes on.

But Faith surprises her by wrapping her arms around Tara’s waist and pulling her close, echoing Tara’s action earlier in the afternoon.

“Nope.”

“I know it’s not your kind of music,” Tara says.

Faith shrugs and starts to sway in time with the rhythm. “You like it. I like you.”

Tara smiles against Faith’s cheek.

“Buffy and Willow look beautiful.”

“Sure they do,” Faith says. “They got all these damn fairy lights shining on them. Enough to make anyone look like a princess.”

“Uh-huh.”

They sway from side to side, hardly moving at all, enjoying each other’s closeness and company.

“It’s almost hard to believe they’ve been married for a year already,” Tara says.

“Time flies.”

“It does.”

“Almost makes you think…”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing,” Faith says quickly.

“Okay.”

“No, wait,” Faith says. “I wanna say it. And give me a slap if I’m wrong for goin’ there, ‘cause I’ve never known anything like…” She lifts one hand from Tara’s back to gesture vaguely. “Do you want this? Some day?”

Tara stops swaying.

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

“What? No.” Faith shuffles awkwardly. “I mean, only if you want, ‘cause if you don’t I’d get it, honestly, T, I wouldn’t—”

Tara shuts her up with a kiss.

“I do,” Tara says, once they’ve broken apart.

“You do?” Faith says incredulously.

“I do. God, yes.” Tara can feel her eyes brimming with tears. “I’ve been wanting to ask, but I didn’t know if you’d even thought about marriage and—”

“Only this year,” Faith admits. “I never really believed in it, you know? Seemed like bullshit growing up. But B and Red…” She shrugs.

“I know,” Tara says. She smiles helplessly.

“Can we tell them?”

“Now?”

Tara looks over to where Buffy and Willow are still dancing, eyes closed, holding each other close.

“This is their day,” she says. “We’ll tell them next week.”

“Cool,” Faith agrees. “And—T?”

“I love you.”

“I know,” Tara says, and kisses her again. “I know.”


End file.
